Fire as a Binding Agent
by Lenore483
Summary: Fire brought them together, fire tore them apart. The love story of Marlene McKinnon and Evan Rosier.
_Why had he agreed to it?_

The Order meeting was in full swing though a lot of their members were missing. The deaths of those gone lay heavily on the shoulders of the remaining. The room was bleak, void of anything but a few chairs, a table, and the people seated around it.

Dumbledore was at the head of the table. To his right were Moody, Diggle, McKinnon, and Vance. To his left were Figg, Potter, Pettigrew and Black. James and Sirius mostly ignored Peter in favor of speaking to each other throughout the course of the meeting. He had long since given up on trying to follow their conversation - since they didn't care to include him anyway - and instead, let his eyes wander around the room.

Looking over at McKinnon, he felt hesitant. He had always watched her from afar. That was how he had known about the relationship between her and Evan Rosier. At a meeting called by the Dark Lord the previous week, Peter had been approached by Rosier. He knew that Peter had been watching him and Marlene in the past, yet he didn't care. Rosier had somehow managed to convince Peter to be his proxy, and in doing so, made him temporarily forget his trepidation of approaching McKinnon.

Whenever she glanced towards him, Peter could feel the fire behind those eyes burning him up. She hated him - that much was clear. It was something he had gotten used to over the years. After all, there was only a handful that could actually stand him. But he had yearned for her to feel something else, anything else. This mission from Rosier was just the excuse he needed to finally talk to her about something more than trivialities. If she didn't feel the same way about Rosier, the way Rosier still felt about her, maybe Peter had a shot.

When Dumbledore mentioned Rosier's name, Peter was relieved to see her instantaneous reaction; she tensed and looked away, blue eyes locked on the wooden table in front of her. This was the opening he had been looking for.

* * *

She hated it when Evan's name came up.

It wasn't often, because they had a way of dehumanizing all Death Eaters by never referring to them by name. The Death Eaters did that too, of course, by wearing masks and cloaks. To tell the difference between them, you had to look at their wands. Which was hard most of the time, what with curses constantly flying at you. Sometimes a set of cold, dead eyes staring through that horrid mask could give you a suggestion as to their identity. She shivered, wishing she would never have to see _his_ eyes looking at her that way.

Every time they went out on a mission, she couldn't help but search for his familiar wand. She didn't remember it as a weapon; she remembered the weeds he transfigured into flowers, charms to keep her warm, and a fire burning bright between them.

Her blood ran cold as the memories flooded through her; that familiar, chilling resentment coursing through her veins at the very thought of him. Once more, she swore to herself that the hold on her heart wasn't from lingering feelings as she waited for a sign from him. That bridge had been burned to the ground, only ashes left to remember it by.

She shook her head; it was no use thinking about him anymore. He had made his choice, and she had made hers.

Raising her chin, she noticed Pettigrew was staring again.

 _Stinking rat._

Was he stalking her? She wouldn't put it past him. She had felt those beady, little eyes trained on her throughout Hogwarts. Through cracks between books at the library, at meals, and during classes. The other Marauders had, of course, denied that there was anything to it. But she hadn't missed the way Lupin's eyes would sometimes seek out Pettigrew with something akin to suspicion whenever it was brought up.

Staring at the lone candle on the table - it was a pathetic little thing, really, so reminiscent of the ones that accompanied her during her student years - Marlene's thoughts strayed to other times at Hogwarts, times spent with a man she would never see again.

Staying up late in the library had been common for her. Surrounded by books and in her own little world, she felt peaceful. On one such night, she had felt someone's gaze on her, but instead of shivers running down her spine, she had felt a burning desire. She looked up, half expecting to see that filthy Pettigrew boy. Instead, she saw _him_ leaning against a nearby bookshelf - tall, dark, and handsome. His green eyes and robes made her pause, but he just smiled.

Somehow, they had started talking, but that was just pretence; underneath, the fire flickered, burning brighter than the flame in front of them.

One thing led to another, and finally, they were ripping each other's clothes off, inferno licking at their skin.

It consumed them, obliterating who they were, leaving only the truth that its searing touch had burned into them. Neither would ever be the same again, neither wanting to.

* * *

When the meeting finally ended, Pettigrew sought her out almost immediately, and trying to escape proved fruitless when everyone was going through the same exit at the same time.

"Marlene."

She sighed and turned, realising that facing the one person she disliked the most was now unavoidable. Vaguely remembering a promise to Sirius about being nicer to him, she didn't immediately cut him off. "Pettigrew."

"Call me Peter." His reassuring smile did nothing but make her stomach churn.

"What do you want?"

"I noticed you flinched when Rosier's name came up."

Her eyes blazed with anger. "And what does it matter to you?"

"I-uh...umm..." He was wringing his hands as he spoke, clearly nervous. "I was just wondering if you still had feelings for him." Looking everywhere but at her, he seemed like he wanted to be anywhere else than right there. Sometimes, his eyes would flick back and watch her reaction, but he would look away almost immediately.

"None of your business," she snapped. Done with whatever ploy Pettigrew had intended, she turned and tried to walk away. Screw Black and half-hearted promises.

When she felt Pettigrew's right hand on hers, she turned and glared at it, wishing she could just cut it off.

When her eyes met his, he asked, "What if he regretted his actions?"

His words startled her. They had been spoken at an odd time, at the wrong place, with the wrong person saying them. Desperately, she tried not to wish it was green eyes looking imploringly at her, asking if an old lover could be forgiven.

"He's a Death Eater, Pettigrew."

"What if he wasn't?" he continued, and there was something about the way he said it that sent shivers down her spine. Why had he started asking about this so suddenly? Evan had decided a long time ago that _his_ cause was more important than their relationship. He had never understood why she didn't follow him in taking steps to ensure pureblood supremacy. She had never understood why such a tortuous cause could have such a simple ideology and a madman to lead it.

"How would you even know?" She finally pulled her hand out of his grip, and he stumbled backwards. His eyes were darting around the place, trying to find a way out or somebody to save him from this conversation.

But the room was empty. All the wooden surfaces were so alike that they seemed to blur together, leaving them in a space void of anything but their conversation. They were brown, like mud, unclear and unfocused, similar to the small, beady eyes that Marlene was forced to look into, trying to figure out where all of this was coming from.

"I-eh." He gulped. He apparently hadn't prepared for the conversation to take the turn it had.

"Have you talked to him?" Marlene couldn't help the hope that sprung up from deep within her at the thought; hope that she tried to quell. The way Pettigrew flinched told her that he had. A smile almost slipped through, but that was _before_ she realized the implications - because there was only one way Peter would be able to talk to someone like Evan Rosier.

She took a step back, increasing the distance between them, her hand slipping into her pocket where she kept her wand. Her next words were said in a breathless whisper, like a kiss of death travelling across the distance between them. "You're a Death Eater."

Time had slowed to a crawl during their conversation and, to make up for it, had started to speed up again. Suddenly, he had his wand brandished and threw a curse at her. Shielding her eyes with her hands as she jumped out of the way, she missed what he did next, only catching the rustle of his robes across the floor.

She stared at the discarded garment and then at the rat scurrying out of the room, too shocked to react before he had escaped. Was he an Animagus?

* * *

"My lord."

"Wormtail."

He sounded impatient, as if just the sight of Peter angered the Dark Lord.

Peter gulped, knowing that delivering bad news when he was already in a nasty mood meant torture. But there was nothing to it; he had to tell his Master.

"The girl, the one that Rosier likes. She knows about me. She knows I'm a spy." Each word he spoke made him breathless, for it may bring him one step closer to death.

 _"Crucio!"_

When Voldemort finally stopped, Peter lay whimpering on the floor, afraid to open his eyes or curl out of the fetal position.

"What do you expect me to do about it, Wormtail?" His voice was icy again, controlled, levelled. It calmed Peter, because it meant the torture was over for now.

"I don't know, my Lord." His answer was barely a whisper, afraid of the wrath he would face.

"Bellatrix, Travers, Crouch." They all stepped forward, eager to please their master. "Kill the girl and her family."

They bowed and were out of the room in a moment.

"Why are you still here, Wormtail?"

A final squeak was all that escaped his lips before he too disappeared out the door.

* * *

"I really think we should put up a Fidelius charm."

Marlene was back home with her parents, pacing, fretting about what would happen now that she knew Pettigrew's secret.

"Marlene, what are you talking about?" Her mother seemed concerned and walked closer to her, but before she reached her, they both heard a noise. They turned towards the front of the house, alert.

"What was that?" her father asked, as he walked into the living room to join them.

Marlene tensed, her footsteps quiet as she walked over to the window and looked out. Pulling the curtain away, she stared into the same beady eyes as before.

Pettigrew didn't seem apologetic. He seemed resigned to the situation he was in, as though he had made peace with whatever he was about to do. Chills ran down Marlene's spine when she heard a familiar, high-pitched cackle.

"We have to run."

Her dad grabbed her mother and tried to Apparate away, but when it didn't work, he looked at Marlene with an anguished expression.

They were trapped.

Never had she seen her parents so hopeless.

Marlene turned around and looked out the window again and saw Peter raise his wand. Then she saw a flash, fire flaring outside, and she rushed over to her parents. They raised their wands, determined to face whatever may come together, and go down fighting.

As the flames consumed their flowery curtains, she could see Pettigrew again. The shadows they cast made Peter Pettigrew look more like a monster than the timid little boy she had thought him to be.

* * *

He was going to make things right again.

Evan thought about the last time they had been a couple, when they had snuck off into the forest. Wielding his wand, he had lit a fire to warm them as they sat atop a hill. But with the way they embraced each other, the fire wasn't needed.

The sight of the flames before him, however, was anything but pleasant. Their significance was clear, a warning seared into his soul. No longer could he spot smoke in the distance and feel his mind flood with warm memories. He had kept that warmth in his heart, but now it was snuffed out forever.

The fire burned bright, roaring up to touch the Dark Mark above.

Evan couldn't breathe. The flames engulfed the house, _her_ house, leaving nothing but burned wood and ash everywhere it touched. Screams were still coming from within, but they were muffled by the crackling fire and Bellatrix's maniacal laughter. Nothing and no one could get in or out, and by now they would have been too scorched to be saved. Hopelessness spread from his heart, into his limbs, as he fell to his knees.

"Hello, Evan."

His master's voice curled around him, choking him with its soothing, deceptive tone.

"My lord." He answered reverently, bowing his head, although he felt his skin tingle in defiance of his own actions. It felt as if something was crawling beneath the surface of his skin, hissing to get out and attack his master.

"I understand you knew her." His words seemed more fit for a funeral. But there was no inflection of emotion in them. They were grave like the wizard that spoke them. Silence stretched between them, for Evan knew that the moment he looked into those soulless eyes, he would be done for. Those searching eyes that could tear your deepest, darkest secrets from you.

Evan raised his head, jaw set in determination. Deciding that there was no point in denying it since he had already lost everything dear to him, he spoke words meant for another, eyes still locked onto the inferno.

"I loved her." Even if this was the first and only time he would say those words, it felt as though somehow, Marlene would be able to hear them. He _needed_ her to hear them.

If he had looked at the wizard at his side, he would have noticed the hate that flashed through his Lord's eyes.

"Love... such a fickle emotion."

What he did notice, though, was Peter, the traitor, scurrying about in the background. It was clear who had signed her death sentence. How that man had survived as a spy against the Order was unclear. What was worse, Evan had asked him to talk to Marlene, and she had probably figured it out. His brilliant, headstrong girl, once more proving her worth. Yet, it had resulted in this. Was it Evan's fault that she had died? Would her life have been saved if he hadn't loved her?

"Maybe because you don't understand it."

"What is there to understand?" His curiosity was disconcerting, foreign in someone so cold, who had no concern for matters of the heart.

"She was everything to me."

"Come now, no need for dramatics."

"Fuck you." His tone was defiant, and he clenched his jaw, trying to hold strong against the foe he was facing.

 _"Crucio!"_ Evan fell down, screaming and twitching as he was tortured.

All he could do was twitch and hope to be let up, to escape the agony of his skin being peeled off layer by layer, like an onion producing nothing but tears, revealing that there was nothing more beneath. One truth shone through his being: he loved her beyond everything that he was. He should have realized it before; saved her somehow.

The Dark Lord stopped and stared down at one of his most trusted servants. Evan was panting, occasional twitches running through him, as his body was dealing with the aftershock of the curse.

"Get up. I'm tired of this now." The Dark Lord waved his hand impatiently. "We have work to do."

"And you think I'll just do as you say?" Evan rasped, spitting out blood. "After you murdered her?"

 _"Crucio!"_ This time, his scream drowned out the other sounds, making it seem as if it was the only sound around. The pain seemed to be wrapped around his insides, a snake coiling around its victim, suffocating it. His blood drowning him, filling up his lungs as his scream tore away his air.

Then it stopped, all of it just an allusion to what may come if he continued to disobey his master.

"You can get away with defying me once, but don't expect me to be lenient again, Rosier."

It took everything he had not to curse him back, but Evan knew when to stop. "I'm sorry, My Lord."

Voldemort's smile was similar to a predator showing teeth. "Good boy."

He left, leaving Evan a crumbled mess outside his past lover's burning house. His body was too broken to get up and leave just yet. He wasn't a Phoenix waiting to be reborn; he was ashes spread out by the wind, nothing left to grasp. He turned away to stop looking at his worst nightmare come to life, but he could still feel the flames on the back of his neck, their heat too strong to contain within wards.

Fire was only a reminder of painful memories now.

* * *

 **Authors Note:**

This was written for my Team's trial run in the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.

I'm on the Falmouth Falcons, and I'm Chaser 3!

Our prompt was a relationship between an unknown Character and a character we disliked. I choose Marlene McKinnon/Peter Pettigrew as enemies. Then I sprinkled some Evan/Marlene loving on the side, because Evan Rosier is delicious. This takes place in 1981 towards the end of the war.

Additional Prompts:

(dialogue) "And you think I'll just do as you say?"

(emotion) resentment

(emotion) hopelessness

Word count: 2,923

Special thanks to Sunne, Sxcond and The Lady Arturia for being my wonderful Beta's!

[Edited to implement changes after it was judged by Nightmare Prince and lokilette]


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